Please…Heal Me
by SarasaComet
Summary: Giroro gets tricked once again by Keroro, but it turns out different this time. He's injured. Bad. But there's only one who wants to offer a helping hand... can he take it? Of course, he's afraid to... but he needs it more than ever... help him, Dororo.
1. Chapter 1: Take Out Your Anger

A placid breeze passed easily and lazily overhead a field far from the outskirts of Tokyo. In the middle of this forgotten prairie, a small red keronian raised his head to the sunlight that fell easily and coaxingly all around him. _Well, it's not exactly challenging weather, so it won't be much to test us..._ he thought. But a lesser occupied frog might point out that it was a very beautiful day. However, that would not be this one. This frog, known commonly as Corporal Giroro, was currently _very_ occupied. He tapped a foot impatiently on the ground, and forced himself to recall exactly what his plans today had been aligned to. First, set up camp in this abandoned field which he'd spent all night trying to find. Second, warm-up before combat training, something his platoon was in serious need of. Third, a brusque break, wherein he would allow no nonsense and no quitting half-way. Fourth, endurance training for an hour. Fifth, precision practice until the sun went down, so as to make sure they were properly worn out. Then the last break, a cool-down, and finally, he'd personally clean the equipment while the others left, before he, too, returned to their base (he refused to call it home). That was plenty to do, he figured. A busy day, he decided. Perhaps the only problem was possibly that _no one else had bothered to show up_.

Just yesterday, in the middle of the invasion meeting, Keroro had come up with this idea. It had been about the time he'd gotten in a shouting match with him about the usefulness of an invasion plan involving, what was it? Zeros, table corners, hot springs, whatever. All of Keroro's ideas were useless from the start, as far as he was concerned. "A mandated training day!" That's what that fool Keroro had said. "I'll even let you plan the whole thing, Corporal! Just calm down, gero!" Oh, and like the gullible idiot he was, he'd spent all night planning, deciding, researching. Everything from the most optimal location for a training practice to the kind of training that would provide the most challenging atmosphere. All so that they could all train together like a platoon should, sharply and admirably...and, yet...

"Alright, if no one's coming, then I'm still getting on with this! I didn't go through all this work to just slack-off like that green bastard!" He growled sharply through his teeth, infuriated as usual. _Was that Keroro's plan all along? Just to anger me?_ Well, great, he'd finally succeeded at _something_. Giroro looked over his shoulder, toward the pile he'd amassed for provisions. There sat over a dozen different types of military-grade weaponry and five packs filled with necessary survival tools. He had assumed the others would bring their own vital supplies, like food and medical kits.

He scanned the horizon once more, hoping to spot some UFO in the distance speeding towards his chosen area with great fervor. It wasn't anything special, it was just a barren field, surrounded by trees on two sides and more field on the other two, probably once used for soy beans or corn, but now out of season and empty. His own transportation device laid abandoned just to the right of all his supplies, which had been so meticulously picked out. _Tmp, tmp, tmp. _His foot tapped quickly against the ground. _What time is it?_ Giroro glanced at the abandoned UFO, a small digital clock within its' dashboard announcing that it was 5:56 am. He'd told them "Be there at 6, definitely. Actually, get there ten minutes before that because you're all going to be late, anyway." He should've recognized what was going to happen the moment the light in Keroro's eyes just sort of faded out, and from the discouraged face Private Tamama had shot him. They must've just thought "What? That's way too early! 6? What, is he insane! Oh, I'll just tell him I forgot the next day, that'll work...". He hadn't even expected Kululu to come from the start, that nerdy, seriously out-of-shape frog had just sort of slouched forward in his seat, cocked his head in the opposite direction, and let out a mumble of, "Bad timing, Corporal." before launching into one of his infernal resonances of "Ku Ku Ku.".

Giroro ground his teeth in anger, slowly closing his eyes against the cheerful sunshine. How mad he was for letting himself believe that it'd be different this time! How many times had Keroro thrown him a bone in pity like this? Another damn unfulfilled promise added to the pile, he supposed. There was no such thing as 'Have your cake and eat it, too', huh?

Behind him, the digital clock chimed peppily in his direction, a timer he'd left incase everyone really did show up on time and he needed to be alerted it was time to start training. What a useless device, reminding him once again that his was the only soul left in that whole field! Fury seized hold of him, wrapping all around his muscles and limbs, exploding out of no where all at once and culminating in him taking a running start and throwing his fist right into the dashboard before he even knew what he was doing. The small window shattered instantly, sending sparkling shards of glass flying in all directions, including into his skin and all around the ground. The machine beeped weakly in defeat, sending a steady stream of error messages his way to match the steady stream of curse words he flung back at it.

"You piece of scrap metal! Don't send your damn messages to me like I don't know full well Keroro tricked me again! I don't need this bull, I don't, I don't-"

"G-Giroro?"


	2. Chapter 2: A Confrontation

Giroro jerked violently backwards, sending little dribbles of blood flying all across his 'scrap metal'. He twisted around just in time to see a flash of light blue come tearing at him.

"NO- NO, Dororo-" But too late. Dororo caught him by the good hand with a surprisingly strong grip and immediately dragged him in the opposite direction, towards his perfectly intact transportation, and fairly likely, a medical kit.

"Why do you do that, when you know you'll get hurt?!"

"When'd you get here!" He shot back defensively.

"Don't change the subject!" Dororo threw him a guilting glare that was enough to shut him up for a minute. He purposefully avoided those soft blue eyes, not wanting to give away the petty anger that he was ashamed to realize still poured through him. "I got here ten minutes ago, like instructed. Let's leave it at that." Dororo half-mumbled at him. Giroro finally forced himself to look up at Dororo, though he detested making himself ask the next question;

"So the others, did they-"

He didn't even need to finish: Dororo's gaze softened instantly. Giroro hated himself for immediately knowing the answer to his unfinished question, and hated Dororo for all the pity that lingered in his eyes.

"I didn't want them to come anyway," he scoffed bitterly, "They'd just ruin the training exercises! They always cause problems, those fools!"

"Giroro, I..." Giroro recognized the gushing sympathy at once, and recklessly ripped his hand out of Dororo's grip.

"Don't look at me like that!" Giroro was getting defensive, and worse, was almost roaring at him now. Dororo let out a small "oh-!" kind of noise, and looked hurt by his sudden uproar, but not very surprised. The pity seemed to intensify rather than subside. Giroro glanced down at his hand, which stung to high heaven, but he ignored it for all he was worth. Probably could've even fooled Dororo if the blood wasn't already gushing down the length of his arm.

"...Giroro...Come here. Don't be stubborn when you know you need help." Dororo offered his outstretched hand. Giroro didn't move a muscle.

"Let me deal with my own problems! I don't need sympathy from someone like_ you!_" Giroro screeched before whipping around; he was already marching away. He paused momentarily. _Did I even leave any medical equipment in those survival packs_? His gaze met the earth. _No_. At this point, he didn't even care, he just kept going.

"You don't always have to push everyone away, you know!" As Dororo threw the words at him, he didn't even look backwards. He knew that must've hurt the guy, but he didn't particularly care. Giroro reached the supplies pile and fumbled increasingly clumsily through his own survival kit, angered but utterly unsurprised to find that he hadn't left any medical supplies at all. He had expected... well, _Dororo_, to bring it, because he wasn't in charge of such things. "I have the bandages, come here already."

Giroro's bent over head jolted upwards unintentionally. Why couldn't Dororo just let him be? But he felt a new surge of pain come shooting through his arm and he knew he was being foolish. Suddenly he felt dull and useless, and his anger drained in the realization that he was just being stubborn again. He didn't move from his spot, but he limply held out his right hand, which by now was a good deal darker red than the rest of him. His stare bored into the ground hopelessly. He focused his anger at everything that had happened on a lone katydid hobbling across the ground. _Stupid bug_. He waited as patiently as he could until he could feel gentle hands softly wrap around his arm, over and over, as a bandage was tightly wrapped around his pulsing fingers, then wrist, and all the way up to his elbow.

When the bandage was set, he finally unlocked his eyes from the cool earth below him. Dororo was watching him as silently as ever.

"Well...are you going to yell at me? I've been made a fool again, haven't I..."

"I-I...well, it was rude of everyone to just forget you like that, I think." Dororo tilted his head a bit, his eyes suddenly happy (but ever soft) again. "I don't blame you for being angry. Just don't hurt yourself, there are people who care about you enough to be sad you'd do that."

"If those damn fools cared, how come it's just you and me miles away from them?" Giroro hadn't meant to say it, he just found suddenly he couldn't stop himself from whispering it hoarsely to the empty space in front of him. He gritted his teeth, anger welling up in him again. Well, if he was being a damned imbecile today, there wasn't much use trying to stop it _now_, was there?

Dororo looked at him for a long time, gently closing his eyes and letting the lazy breeze cross between their silence. After a moment of consideration, he slowly laid one hand on Giroro's shoulder.

"I don't think they're the right people to put those kind of expectations on..."

Giroro looked blankly back at him. _This anger, this stupid, unmanageable, uncontrollable anger_. Then he snorted and raised his head to the sun.

"Even when they're not here, they still get in the way. I have to rely on you of all people to say this, huh?" Dororo simply smiled back in response. Or at least, that's what Giroro imagined, as he couldn't see under his mask.

"Do you still want to train?" Giroro wasn't sure what he wanted the response to be. He felt worn out already, from just twenty minutes of waiting in this empty, empty field.

"How will we train properly if you're injured? Don't be so reckless, Giroro. Let's just go home." The red keronian shifted, and stood. He turned to his accomplice and patted his hand on Dororo's shoulder, trying to hide a smile.

"Alright, alright- but wouldn't it have been more of a challenge that way?"


	3. Chapter 3: But No One's Awake

The Next Day

_Tick, tick, tick. _

"No, it's not mornin' yet, no-o-o..." A mumble was muffled into a pillow.

_Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick. _

Giroro slouched upright, gently pushing his blanket away from him. He glanced upwards, realizing the sun was trying unsuccessfully to penetrate his tent with it's weak, barely woken rays- well, of course it was morning already, that was a completely unsurprising development.But as the corporal reached out to touch his alarm clock, something got him. The clock wasn't set to go off for another hour... but the soft ticking it relayed to him throughout the night would never be enough to wake him from a heavy slumber. _What's going on... _he mused.

Giroro decided to check outside quickly, and slipped his belt around his back, clicking the clasps together sharply, and crawled over to his tent flap, nervously unzipping it and peering out.

Light reached cautiously out to him, barely visible through thick clouds. The sun had only just raised its' proud head, and the thinest of rays glanced off the earth, still leaving the morning cold and dull and shivery. Dew shone on every blade of grass, and everything was silent, not even a bird stirring quite yet. It was still very, very early. Reasoning that he'd be unable to fall back asleep anyway at this point, Giroro stepped out and sat pointedly on one of his small cement bricks, almost shuddering at its' ice-cold temperature. He looked out over the wall and at the other households surrounding theirs, marveling at the blissfully unaware pekoponians probably asleep even at this moment. But the question remained in his head: _what had woke him_? He mulled over the question for a second to amuse himself when he was interrupted by a soft, slightly subdued sound coming from behind him.

He was up and tensed instantly, a small pistol already warped into his fist. At first, silence. Then, it came again. It was an odd noise echoing in and out and sounded sort of like... knocking?

Giroro tiptoed over to the front gate, his fingers almost crushing the butt of his precious gun with his anxiously tight grip. He placed a hand on the latch and quickly and coolly undid it, swinging open the door, his gun partially raised.

There, standing perfectly still, was a sky blue keronian covered by mask and a guarded expression. Dororo raised his hands and instantly broke his façade, whimpering, "G-Giroro, don't shoot! It's me...". Giroro lowered his gun, but kept it at his side. He had a slightly different way of acting guarded.

"Dororo? Couldn't you just come in by yourself with your skill?" Giroro, with an air of suspicion, referenced the Lance-Corporal's incredible stealth and prowess as a ninja.

Dororo looked at the ground, his demeanor gone soft and quiet again. You could read him like a book unless he was really trying, and it looked like right now he couldn't try for long.

"I didn't want to sneak into the base like usual..." Giroro dropped his gaze to the earth as well, pretending to study the same thing as his friend.

"Why're you here so early..."

"I didn't want to come when everyone was awake..."

"Why would you want to come when everyone's asleep..."

"I wanted to come when only you were awake..."

Giroro didn't move for a second. Every one of his muscles tensed. His empty hand mindlessly gripped his leg, then released it.

"Why." A statement a tone away from a question.

Dororo didn't answer at first. Then, after what felt like an age of consideration and thought,

"T-To see how your hand is. I still have that medic kit, a-and I know you can't do it yourself."

"Dororo, like that's any of your damn busi-"

"And I know you're too bullheaded to ask someone else to help. Especially someone like Pururu who really could help." Giroro's tensed muscles coiled further. He knew at this point the hand holding his gun must have gotten white knuckles, but he didn't even feel it. Was he shaking? Damnit, why did Dororo do this to him! He sharply looked away, towards the dozing Hinata household. Dororo falteringly looked in the opposite direction, down the street he stood out on. Of course his reason was made up, that wasn't why he came at all. But Giroro was gullible, and believed his innocence.

"Yeah, well, I... Oh, just come on already, okay?" Giroro swiftly turned and walked directly to the backyard, while Dororo quietly followed. He marched purposefully past his concrete blocks and went straight for the tent, diving in before he could be (hypothetically) seen. Dororo followed him in, too, not questioning his silent shyness.

He entered into the small space, where the ground was cushioned only with cloth and a blanket and the edges of the tent were home only to guns (one more as the Corporal replaced the one he'd taken out earlier), a very small dresser-imitating object that looked as though it had once been a jewelry box, and an old-fashioned radio. Dororo had actually never been in Giroro's tent before, but now he realized why the Corporal prized it so much: it basically held everything Giroro had left. The Lance-Corporal absentmindedly reached out and fingered the edge of the mock-dresser, taking in the small curves of it and everything else within Giroro's war-haven. Giroro had turned away for a moment to light a small oil-lantern, realizing that the morning's clouded sun barely passed for a light source in the nearly opaque tent.

Before Giroro could notice, Dororo silently slid open the top drawer, without thinking. He instantly felt guilty, but peered inside anyway. There were just three photos set there. On the top, one of Natsumi smiling, but a bit blurred. Dororo smiled as he suspected Giroro had taken it when he thought she wouldn't notice and while shaking a bit. Underneath that photo the edge of another stuck out, while the third was completely obscured. Dororo recognized the second one at once, it was a simple photo of him and Giroro taken years ago, right before they left for the military- arms tucked over each other's shoulders and huge suitcases at their feet, grinning into the camera, glancing over toward each other with a hesitant "Well, we're really going to do this, aren't we?" expression as they took in their last moment together for a very long time.

Dororo reached out to touch the photo softly, and felt that the sides of it were well-worn, as if it'd been taken out many times, held, and replaced all over again. That made him happy for some reason, a feeling that tinged warmly on the side of his insides. He quietly pushed the drawer closed again, as Giroro finally lit his lantern.


	4. Chapter 4: Just One Still Standing

Dororo glanced at the lantern as Giroro turned back to him, then brought his eyes up to Giroro's face. Suddenly it felt as if the world had been drawn out from underneath him, as he watched Giroro's eyes soften from their formidable all-absorbing black into a greyish, stormy blue, and felt the flicker of flame warm them both much too hot, and suddenly they were way too close and Dororo was stifled by his mask and the heat and the walls of the tent. He wasn't sure if he wanted to get up and get farther away, to make up for the lost room there, and to calm himself down again, or to invade the idea and close the space between them.

And then Giroro was there, reaching out and softly touching his hand, intensifying the feelings a thousand-fold, until Dororo feared Giroro could actually hear his heart flutter like an excited bird in his chest. He could have jumped a mile, but he forced himself still, although he wanted to leap away and give up his endeavor instantly at that moment. The red frog, however, just knit his brows together in a look of concern.

"You alright, Dororo? You look nervous, a bit pale. You sure you want t' take a look at my hand...? I can handle this."

Dororo shook his head near violently, closing his eyes slowly and after a long moment nodding and mumbling, "It's alright, give me it."

Giroro retracted his good hand from Dororo's at long last (The Lance Corporal unintentionally issued a breath of relief, gaining him a confused look and a pause from Giroro, who he reassured to continue). He then held out his right, wounded hand and let Dororo carefully unwrap the bandages, gingerly laying them to the side as he brought forth his medic kit again. Giroro was still extremely tense, but the temporary medic pretended not to notice.

The wound was still quite a bit darker red than the rest of Giroro, but had lightened some from yesterday, especially after Giroro had gone back and gotten all the shards of glass out of his skin. Dororo held the swollen hand light as a feather, and tenderly touched the very edge of a wound. Giroro flinched, grimacing before he could stop himself.

"You're gonna have to wear the bandage on this awhile, you know. It won't heal fast..."

Giroro just stared at his hand, or maybe Dororo's? He lost track quickly. They both did. He slowly closed his eyes and grit his teeth, snarling.

"I can't do anything with this, it hurts whenever I try to do something! It feels like I've become a useless soldier." Dororo shot his head upwards, instantly angered.

"You? The Red Devil of the battlefield? Get a wound on a few fingers, his wrist, and can't fight anymore? Totally crippled? That's it? You're done?" Dororo spat as he sloppily redid the bandage. He didn't want to look at his hands, he knew they were trembling. Someone as important as Giroro... someone important as his Giroro could_ not_ believe such a thing...!

"T-That's not what I said!" He sputtered, unsure how to react to Dororo's unusual burst of energy.

"Don't ever call yourself useless! You're incredibly important. There are people who care enou-"

"-Don't give me that, don't you dare! They don't give a damn, I know they don't!" Giroro quickly stood and waved his hand widely towards the direction of the house, and obviously, the base. "They don't care about invasion, our jobs, our duty as soldiers, anything! They don't even care about their platoon-mates! To them, I'm just some idiot trying to do something they've given up on long ago!_ They don't care at all!_"

A long, long moment spread out before them. It was filled up only by Giroro's heaving breathing, and adrenaline racing through him.

More time elapsed, and it felt as if the world had stopped, and entered atrophy.

At long last-

"I do."

Another long, long moment passed.

"D-Doro-" Giroro lost his voice half-way, and couldn't speak at first. Here was his friend, his _only_ friend, after everything he had put him through, after everything they'd been through, sitting here, patient and quiet as he'd ever been, with the same expression he'd had on his face the day he'd met him, so dreamy and hopefully and innocent that he probably thought he could catch stars at night if he could reach high enough, here he was, saying he _still _cared, especially after all this, after everything, he still _cared_ and no one else did but that didn't matter a dime in the world because- _he_ still cared, and he was Dororo, and not just that, but_ Giroro's _Dororo, the Dororo that'd always been there, always helped, always been everything a friend could be and Keroro hadn't been.

All at once, everything in Giroro just sort of collapsed and the empty feeling returned, overpowering him, cascading through him like a tsunami and ripping him apart. The adrenaline left his heart going way too fast and he was shaking again, shaking bad, he couldn't control it no matter how hard he tried, and he tried to say something, tried to tell Dororo to leave for a moment, but he groped blindly for what to say because he couldn't speak, and only a muffled gasp escaped him and made him feel so weak that he tried even harder to tell Dororo to go, but he couldn't, and suddenly Dororo was there, too, too near him, and his arms were around his waist, pulling him into a hug and Giroro wanted to push him away and tell him he didn't like it, like he normally would, but he couldn't do that, either, he wanted, no, _needed_, Dororo there and Giroro just pushed him much further into his chest, throwing his arms carelessly around his back and squeezing him to make sure he was really there and being unable to breathe for a long, long moment.

"Dororo." The words finally came through in a choked, gruff tone. He was trying so hard not to betray his own feelings.

"Y-Yeah..."

"Don't tell anyone, though."

"Of course not, Giroro..."


	5. Chapter 5: You're Nothing Special

I AM SORRY IN ADVANCE… TO KULULU FANS… I LIKE HIM BUT THIS JUST HAD TO BE WRITTEN… RE: I DO LIKE KULULU!- but sorry...

* * *

They stood still for a long moment, Dororo being too nervous to do anything on his own, and Giroro too apprehensive and anxious to break the moment and return to reality. They just stood still, together, the comforting energy of Dororo being pushed at Giroro and Giroro's warmth and presence holding Dororo and that was all he needed.

Giroro slowly slid his hands up and around Dororo's shoulders and just kind of gripped the front of them awkwardly. He leaned forward and touched his forehead to Dororo's, kind of leaning against him without hurting him, looking down at the ground. His expression was as guarded as a steel wall, but it was obvious he was lost in the moment.

"...Giroro."

"W-What?" He croaked out. He desperately did not want the situation to be brought back to reality, and didn't want the repercussions. He only wanted now, he only wanted _his_ Dororo.

"Thank you... for not reacting badly... I've been making you mad lately, and I didn't know if saying something like that would make it worse..."

"You didn't make it worse, you fool. You think you could get at me that easily? The Red Devil never gives up just like that..." Giroro snorted, raising his head again, looking into those soft, soft eyes that looked like they were trying so hard to convey "It's all gonna be okay" to him. He let the feeling wash over him and leave him warm and happy.

"Giroro!" Dororo squeaked happily, and rushed with euphoria at cheering his best friend up, nuzzled between Giroro's shoulder and head, holding onto him tightly.

All at once, a thousand different sensors went off in Giroro on red alert, and it was a rush all over again. It was like the feeling he got when talking to his Natsumi, seeing her smile or hearing her laugh, but at the same time, totally different and foreign and...not a feeling he thought Dororo could ever, _ever _trigger. It was...too much.

The moment culminated all at once, and he was sobered instantly. Reality roughly threw him to the surface, leaving him gasping desperately for air, for escape from this feeling. He took the only route he knew; roughly pushing Dororo off, disgruntled in ways he didn't expect or like.

"Don't... Don't do that." he rumbled, sitting down again, whilst looking towards the ground. He tried to keep his voice as even as possible.

"Ah! Giroro! I didn't mean-" Dororo took a step forward, stretching out a hand, a plea written in his eyes. But Giroro waved him off emotionlessly, not even raising his head.

"Just, maybe you should go on out to the meeting room, okay? I'm-I'm busy. And call me Corporal around the others, damnit." Giroro remained completely monotone, and refused to make eye contact. He waited and watched nothing but Dororo's feet awhile, before they slowly turned and carried him away, leaving Giroro all alone once again. _What's wrong with me?_ He thought exasperatedly, staring at his own hands emptily, searching for the answer within his palms. Then, with defeat, he covered his face with his hands and rubbed his forehead tiredly, screwing up his face in frustration._ I don't know, I don't know!_

_**...**_

A few hours more

Giroro leaned impatiently forward on the broad white desk stationed underground in the meeting room, exasperated and increasingly vexed by Keroro's invasion plan-of-the-day. He listened carefully as his leader repeated once again his idea, confused as to why no one was on board.

"So I've realized, a lot of Pekoponians drink milk, correct? So, what if we took the cows-"

Dororo interjected, "We're not going to hurt the cows, are we? They're a valuable resource-"

He, in turn, was overuled by Tamama's sing-song voice calling out, "Seargent, I only liked to drink cola. Can we go after whatever animal makes cola?" Tamama half-turned away and giggled to himself, chirruping "And then I can have all the cola I want and not have to stop drinking when Paul tells me to...!"

Kululu raised a bedraggled point, his voice dripping with satire, "Seargent, there are alternatives to milk, they'd just drink that. There's even soy milks to replace regular milks. It'd have no effect and be a gigantic waste of our budget."

Giroro slowly stood from his seat and slammed his good fist on the table, angered.

"Just what effect would taking their milk have anyway? They'd drink water, and it'd be a total waste of time!"

At this point, Keroro tried desperately to gather himself, pressed against the back of his chair.

"Ah, yes, good point, Red Daruma! Then by conclusion, if we take, or maybe infect, their water-"

"-Keroro, WE need water!" Dororo cried, getting desperate.

Keroro waved Dororo's statement away and added brazenly, "Okay, if you are just going to argue with my plans, I'm not even going to stay here! I don't have to deal with you insubordinates!" Keroro huffed angrily as he stormed out of the room. The rest of them sat still, silence falling around them as they slowly came to the same conclusion they always ended at- none at all.

Tamama jumped up first, and sulkily went after the Seargent, mumbling something along the lines of, "He's not even trying anymore...", with a look of disappointment still lingering around him.

The rest of them watched the tadpole leave, until Kululu turned around to Giroro, nodding wordlessly. He'd barely said much for the entire meeting, seemingly careless about the plan beyond that it wouldn't work, and everyone else around him, but now he seemed to take a sudden special notice of the other beings in the room. He pushed up his glasses an inch, then addressed Giroro specifically.

"You didn't expect much more than this, did you...? Another plan gone out before it'd even begun. Just like yours did!"

Giroro swung round to him, his temper already on a light trigger after the useless mess of a meeting that'd just gone down.

"What do you mean-"

"So, just what happened to your hand, Cor~por~al?" Kululu sang at him from the opposite side of the table, glee laced into his torturous words.

"Shut up, that's what happened, just shut up!" Giroro raised his arms at his sides and bared his teeth. He'd had enough bullshit for one day!

Dororo rushed forward, forgotten in the frenzy, lightly placing a hand on Giroro's shoulder and holding up his hand in Kululu's direction, incase he got angered, too.

"Don't fight over something so trivial, really, everyone just calm down!" He tried to soothe Giroro while turning to Kululu at the same time, saying in a joking tone, "I-It was an accident, Seargent Major! Nothing to worry about!"

Kululu seemed to not notice him for a second, but then with a sheen of his glasses, the yellow frog rounded on the blue one without mercy, "You do realize you have nothing to do with this, right? Leave the big talk to the big guys, Doronne."

"His name's Dororo, don't act like you've forgotten it!" Giroro pushed forward against Dororo's hand, fire blazing in his eyes. He'd always been on Kululu's bad side, but this was the last straw, he was sick and tired of the taunting from this guy!

"I tend to forget unimportant things like..._ that_." Kululu gestured towards Dororo, adding with immense pleasure, "Does that anger you, Cor~por~al?" Then he leaned forward, his chin set on laced fingers, his gloating grin widening. He almost seemed to anticipate breaking into Giroro's anger, setting him off. It was just what he wanted. And honestly, Giroro didn't know if he could deny him this time.


	6. Chapter 6: Retribution And Repression

"Don't you dare insult him! Dororo's ten times the man you are, you lay-about, out-of-shape, couch-potato! You've got no respect from me, or anyone else in this platoon!" Giroro roared at once, red hot anger seizing hold of him again.

Kululu's grin snapped. He lashed forward, throwing his open palms flat on the table, growing bitterly intense. "So, you dare speak to your higher up like that? Do you know what kind of platoon I can get _this guy_," he jabbed a thick thumb in Dororo's general direction, beginning to hiss, "-in to? Do you know how _miserable _I can make his existence? You wouldn't want that, _would_ you, Corporal?" His voice was laced with jealousy. He couldn't stand the Corporal caring about someone else.

Giroro stepped forward, rage itching in his every available muscle. He raised his right arm, (the bandage, wound, pain, all forgotten) and menaced towards Kululu, letting his anger tumble all around him as he unleashed it without reserve.

"You wouldn't _dare_ touch him, you wouldn't _**dare **_hurt him-! Because I'd go after you, and you know it! I'm tired of you getting in the way of all our invasion plans, sabotaging things and messing with us! You just better leave everyone alone!"

"Giroro, don't say that! He doesn't mean to do such mean things, it's not worth it, let's just go-" Dororo pleaded futiley, determined not to give up on ending the fight. His right hand alighted on Giroro's right forearm with a soft, but commanding, touch. He was getting desperate, and glanced back and forth between them like it was a tennis match.

But It was clear Kululu extracted extreme pleasure as he cooed out his next words, "Oh, Ku Ku Ku~, but won't you make me, Corporal? Won't you make me stay away from your "_precious_" friend?"

Vivid fury flared up in Giroro, not even from the mocking of him, but _Dororo_, here was Kululu insulting his Dororo, and Giroro had had _**enough**_. He wildly threw off Dororo's hand and instantly flew over the table, getting over Kululu in seconds. The yellow frog tried to yelp in distress, but Giroro roared back at him as his fist sailed forth and connected to his face before he could make a sound. Kululu flew backwards, bouncing clear out of his chair and slamming into the ground, glasses shattering and hands outstretched in a failing attempt to cushion the fall. He gasped audibly as his body connected with the ground, and looked around desperately, whimpering, "My glasses-!".

Giroro walked over to him, and stood in front of his head, which slowly turned upwards to recognize he was there. While this happened, Dororo became frozen in place, watching them with eyes wider than Giroro'd ever seen.

Giroro watched Kululu's face as he slowly raised his head, and all the glee and anger and spite was drained from it and all that remained was shock and hurt.

"Don't ever, _ever_, threaten Dororo again."

Kululu nodded slowly, averting his eyes. The color was already returning to his whitened face, though the shock hovered, still. If Giroro was a softer man, he'd pity him... but he wasn't.

"...Yes? Good, then I have nothing more to say."

Kululu nodded again, reaching up and testing one of his headphone's sound while turning his head and choking out a "Tch!" but otherwise saying nothing. Giroro turned to Dororo, who still seemed to be stopped in time.

"I'm leaving, there's nothing more to be done here..."

"Giroro! How- How could you-"

"He insulted you. That was enough. I won't accept that kind of guy doing that."

Dororo's shoulders shook near violently for a fraction of a moment, but he didn't move. It seemed like the last couple of minutes were still wrecking through him, like he didn't quite understand. _Wasn't violence never the answer?, _that was what he must be thinking, thought Giroro. He blankly regretted his action for a second, but shook his head._ He's gotta learn, it's how you solve problems simply._

In the corner, Kululu sat up and absentmindedly touched his destroyed glasses, rasping out a "Damn, you make things hard..." in Giroro's direction before he got up and quietly walked over to the mini-fridge, and quietly went into the base.

Giroro pretended not to hear him, and walked over to Dororo, closing his eyes softly. When he opened them again, Dororo was still starting like a deer in headlights. Giroro tentatively wrapped his hand around his blue-as-sky wrist, not quite holding his hand but just holding on to him, and mumbling, "It's...it's okay... it's okay, now. Let's go." Half to him, and half to himself.

Dororo broke his reverie at long last, slowly looking first at Giroro, then to his now-claimed wrist. He kept his eyes on Giroro's hand, and felt warmth there, a warmth that was timid and uncertain and hesitant. Dororo did not know what to do with it, besides let it heat him and coax him into moving again, and push him forward. Meanwhile, his heart beat against his chest like always, and even now sent a tattoo reverberating through his head, leaving his thoughts jumbled and dim from just Giroro's touch.

"Ah...-" he managed to choke out, dully surprised.

Giroro tugged on his hand, and Dororo gave way easily, letting himself be pulled out of the room, up the ladder, and out of the Hinata house.

**...**

They stopped at the backyard once again, staying still for awhile, before Giroro unlatched Dororo's wrist from his hand and slowly turned towards his friend, crossing his arms over each other.

It was around mid-evening, and everywhere all around them was silent. The light was there, but it was beginning to sink and shadows were thrown behind them so much taller than their height. The grass swayed easily in a light breeze, and everything left lit up was sparked into a crisp golden colour. On the street, an occasional car or bicyclist could be heard passing casually by, and from within the house there were stifled sounds of activity. Natsumi was in the kitchen cooking something, Fuyuki was on the couch trying to study something or other, and yet despite all this, from the outside it seemed like a whole different world. The clouds seemed to slow their journey at this particular time of day, and the whole world seemed as if it was laying back and kicking its' feet up in relaxation. They were so near everything, and yet so inexplicably set apart from it all

Giroro spoke first.

"You okay? Usually you don't get all flighty from just a punch... even if it is _him_..."

Dororo shook his head silently.

"I'm used to you getting angry, I'm used to you getting your anger out like that. That's normal, right? But that time... it wasn't because Kululu was just angering you like always..."

Dororo laid his hand over his heart soundlessly, looking at the ground below, searching for courage. It offered none, but he rallied himself anyway.

"You weren't just getting mad at him... you were... _protecting_ me..."

Giroro's eyes widened unintentionally, and his arms fell to his sides.

"Well that was... ! Well, you're my-" Giroro scoffed as he realized with tinging embarrassment that he'd almost said out loud '_My Dororo', _and worse, had only just bit back the words_ 'My Dororo- my friend I'd always vowed to protect'_, and feverishly threw the thought aside, determined to remain completely unreadable. No, for a reason, he could muster up something more... normal... _right?_

"I-I mean, you're- you're important to the platoon, y'know. Vital to the invasion." Giroro huffed, swinging his head sideways like it was absolutely nothing.

Dororo tilted his head over a bit, curiosity piqued. He closed his eyes and looked away, almost unwilling to be caught in Giroro's gaze. Right then his eyes seemed to hold all the answers and yet keep them all away. Dororo felt his bravery waver, and found himself feeling like it was just like when they were kids all over again- Giroro was always there, holding out a hand and helping him up, no matter what. A protector, a healer, a comfort, but most importantly, a _constant_. Giroro'd always been fighting for him, hadn't he? That, at least, felt like it had always been. The nostalgic feeling overwhelmed him, and next, his voice came out shaky and like he was trying to hide a heavy emotional overtone.

"But no one's ever said that, to me... I've never been, 'the important one'... I've never...", Dororo's voice broke and he almost sputtered out the last words,

"-I-I've _**never**_ been the- "precious" friend!"


	7. Chapter 7: One Last Comfort Given

Immediately, Giroro swung around to Dororo, his mouth hanging open at the sound of those words. How could he _possibly_ respond...?

"D-Doro-! Don't let that yellow guy get into your head!" Giroro was losing ground fast, spitting out words nearly as soon as he thought of them, anything but anything he could say to keep this topic away. Desperation revved in him, and for once Dororo's face was completely unreadable, beyond that never-wavering softness, those eyes that held no judgement and only comfort. Normally they were a recluse from the rest of the world, from everything at all, but now they were clouded and distant, offering nothing. More words tumbled into Giroro's throat and he barked them breathlessly,

" You really are important! You always have been!" Dororo remained unchanged, but he swore a flicker of shock- or something, something far, far different- rippled across his face for a fraction of a second. But it was gone like that, and he could see a different emotion slowly take over; a pained expression dripping with exasperation. Dororo...Dororo _didn't believe him_. He could almost see the visions flashing through his mind, Keroro pushing him down, cruel games they played and harsh tricks they made him fall for, Giroro wordlessly saw it all: not a world where he was important, a world where he was just a_ toy_. All the words suddenly felt meaningless and hollow in his throat.

The blue amphibian took a weary step back, as if silently communicating that he didn't want to talk anymore. His expression fell and it was just a face of 'I'm so tired of this, can I just be done for today? Can I just go one day of not dealing with this?', a face that caught Giroro just above the diaphragm and took the wind out of him. If the feeling from this morning had been all foreign and wonderful and new, this feeling was tenfold terrible and familiar. It wasn't disappointment, no; fear;no_..._of course_._ It was regret.

He couldn't bear it. _Dororo... Dororo couldn't possibly think it wasn't true? _But he knew without knowing, Dororo was already accepting the thought that he was nothing, worthless. The pain in Giroro's chest soared and gripped him, and he felt a need to stop the feeling- his and Dororo's, to stop it all and fix it, at once.

Dororo had already backed up another step, half turned away, but clearly hesitant, despite wanting to go as soon as possible... but Giroro couldn't let him, couldn't let him think those thoughts. The Corporal went after him, arm outstretched and fingers tingling wildly. Before the Lance-Corporal could react, his injured hand was clasped strongly around Dororo's, and it was not his wrist, not his arm, but really and truly his _hand_.

"G-Giroro-?" Dororo let loose barely a whisper, but it sounded like a wounded cry to him. Hurt had crept into his voice, and he realized with horror that Dororo thought he wanted to torment him further.

"Dororo, no, you have to listen...! You have to listen to me!" He couldn't speak and his voice failed him, and he opened and closed his mouth without sound, to mounting frustration. He forced himself to look Dororo in the eyes, but quickly realized he was way too close, and felt his face heat up. He hung his head deliberately, hoping to hide a creeping blush. His focus fell back to their interlocked fingers, and he squeezed the blue hand tightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to shove at him all the reassurance he could muster.

However, the simple action came with a price: it sent a tidal wave of pain rocking through his arm. Punching Kululu had not left him unaffected, it appeared. He allowed himself only a second to wince, nothing more. More important matters roared in his ear, and like the sound of calm blue ocean waves crashing violently against rocky red shores, he could hear and focus on nothing else. Dororo gave him an even more confused look than from before, and brought his other hand up, to close around the bandaged one. He just sort of cupped it there, loose and comfortable.

But the performance didn't stop there. Giroro finally found his voice, and continued his thought, determined to prove his point.

"You've always been important, ok? ...Maybe not to those fools, but what do they know? Nothing! They start these damn faulty invasions, knowing it won't do a thing from the start...! But anyway, I guess... what I'm trying...fuck!" Giroro choked up again, but grit his teeth, forcing himself to barely say his last words audibly, "Damnit, you know what I'm saying! You're important! At least, you- ...you are to me..."

The clouds in the sky lingered overhead, briefly passing over the sun. The warm golden rays that had been bouncing all around before now died mid-flight, and though it was still light out, a chill swept over them. It shadowed the entire area with a slightly darker shade of somber, but left the rest of the neighbor untouched. It almost felt like they were severed from the rest of reality.

Dororo didn't speak for a long time. The terror had drained from his eyes, but they were still cautious and hesitant, as if he was afraid to believe him and let himself get hurt again. Giroro opened his mouth, but there was nothing more for him to say, either. They just sort of stared at each other for a long, long moment, that felt like much more than a moment.

The clouds overhead passed, and the light returned. Dororo's expression remained unchanged, staying at a stressful mix of anxiety and caution. It was clear; he was still afraid that this was all a trick. Giroro refused to give up, though he felt a tad bit desperate at this point. If Dororo didn't get it, this was all pointless...! Well, he guessed there was _one_ way he could convince him it wasn't a trick...

Giroro reached out and lightly grabbed both of his shoulders. Immediately Dororo's body stiffened, then curled at his touch, lowering his head down in an attempt to show respect and submission. Giroro hardened his jaw, trying to ignore the thought that hissed at him _Dororo thinks I'm angry, that I'll hurt him, too._ But he could still prove his sincerity to him, he still had a chance. Slowly, almost robotically, Giroro drew Dororo close in again. Every movement he made was measured, every touch calculated. It was an excruciatingly slow and forced movement, that seemed to last minutes rather than seconds, but in the end Giroro found himself with his arms around Dororo again, holding him tightly, but comfortingly.


	8. Chapter 8: Your Always

He let Dororo's head fall into his chest, bumping softly against the metal link on his belt. As soon as Dororo realized what was happening, and that Giroro meant it, he threw his arms around him and dug in, trying to hide himself while at the same time beginning to shake with small vibrations reverberating all throughout him. Giroro, mortified, thought he'd hurt him again, when he heard muffled gasping. Slowly, oh-so-slowly, Dororo's shoulders were shaking in uneven time. He dully realized that salt water was beginning to dampen the strap of his belt, and then sharply straightened up when Dororo didn't stop. After a moment, he gradually bent over him again, this time his head gently resting on top of Dororo's. _How much uncharted territory will I be forced to wander through in one day?_ He wondered with great stress. Then as he relaxed, _well, it's okay...I...I think I owe it to him_. He stayed still, not really knowing what to do, except being absolutely certain that he_ must_ stay there.

Giroro, the eye at the center of a storm, calmly ran his fingers over his back, trying to distract himself from any thoughts in his head and everything going on in his mind. He spent as much time as he could analyzing the sky, the grass, his tent- anything was a good enough distraction as Dororo's quiet sobs died into his chest. He attempted to pet the Lance-Corporal gently, in a supposedly reassuring way, playing his fingers clumsily over the ocean blue skin under his touch. When that did nothing, he instead held his fingertips along Dororo's delicate ribcage, which housed a powerful, yet frenziedly beating, heart. Giroro simply let him get it all out, and quietly tuned out everything but his breathing, which was sputtering and hot against his chest.

After several minutes of Giroro exploring the space between Dororo's shoulder blades, and Dororo's cries becoming more and more subdued, Giroro realized he'd stopped.

"Uh...you going to be okay?"

Dororo didn't say anything. He just pushed his head a bit further into his arms.

"If you aren't okay, I can stay here for awhile." Giroro's mind drifted to his tent, his guns, he had thought he should reload the ammunition tonight... suddenly it was all so incredibly unimportant. "Please...just tell me..."

"...I-I think so. I haven't cried like that in awhile."

"I thought you got teary-eyed all the time?"

"That is correct, but it feels better t-to cry..." his voice trailed off, a lone, unfinished note hanging in the air. Giroro roused him by touch, tilting his head (Why did it feel funny to just hold his face...) upwards.

"To cry...?" He prompted him softly. Dororo looked away, suddenly infinitely times more uncomfortable than he'd been seconds before, his face every so palely pink in his hand.

"To cry...y'know. With someone... important."

"O-Oh."

He stopped himself for a whole second, kept himself perfectly straight and unmoving, for a good whole second!, before his eyes dilated without him being able to control it and his serious mask was shattered and he was all shock and relief and embarrassment and...joy? Was that _joy_? Oh fuck, that better nOT BE JOY, OH GOD DAMN IT, _IT IS SO JOY_, IT'S NICE AND BUBBLY JOY and Giroro couldn't help it anymore, he instantly grabbed Dororo tighter around the sides and squeezed him, with the blue amphibian innocently squeaking in euphoria, before returning the gesture. His heart pounded, but in a good way, and _this_ time he didn't fight it. Suddenly courageous, Giroro tried to lean forward into Dororo, but lost his footing and began to fall. Quickly they both tried to untangle by simultaneously tugging each other in opposite directions, but this just lead to them falling over anyway, arms falling apart from the other and bodies clashing into the earth. Dororo fell roughly on his side, and Giroro slammed down a foot away on his back. They made no attempt to reclaim their footing, though, and instead laid out parallel for awhile, not speaking but just gasping for breath as their wind came back to them, and calming their nerves. Then, at last, Giroro broke the settled silence with a rumbling chuckle. It grew into a real laugh, hearty and solid, and Dororo mimicked it innocently, laughing lightly and happily.

"Haha...Hah, oh god, you've always been so soft...Dororo...I knew that, but that was more than ever before...but-but- you're right. It's better with someone- someone-"

Giroro's words trailed off, and he slowly turned his head over to face Dororo head on. His peaceful expression and warm eyes left him feeling soft and cozy laying in the cold grass on the hard packed Earth below. He felt himself even break and smile, but didn't regret it. Dororo just lay there, as innocent as ever with a comforting and accepting look hovering in him, and his body slightly curled, facing Giroro, with one hand under his head and the other on his arm. He could almost see the Zeroro from so many years ago, laying there and listening to him talking about his newest train model or some lecture his brother had given him, eyes bright with attention even though he'd surely talked for hours. It seemed it had always been that Dororo was there, always, listening and comforting and helping and...being his friend. Always. Without question.

Giroro tentatively reached out his right hand, which happened to be his hurt one, and hovered it near Dororo. He recoiled, unsure, then pressed it forward again and claimed Dororo's hand with a rough touch.

"-someone, y'know, that's important." Dororo watched him awhile, taking in his words. He seemed to believe him now, but...at the last moment his expression crumpled and he looked away.

"It never felt like I was important, when we were kids..." Dororo whispered. He seemed almost unwilling to let the words come, to spoil everything, and yet the statement felt so loaded with memories it must've been impossible to subdue.

"You haven't been listening at all!" Giroro scoffed harshly, pretending to be angry. "You've always been important to me!" He pointed at himself with his thumb, with his one eye closed and his bandages bloody and ragtag, he certainly looked the part of the idiot today, didn't he? Oh well... if today was going to be the day he was stupid, he'd use it up as much as he could. For his next idiotic move, he pushed his face up to Dororo's and bumped his head against his forehead. There wasn't much that could top that, was there?

"...Always..." Giroro mumbled, eyes closed and thoughts lost again between memories of playing at Zeroro's house and getting bandaged by him after he beat someone up at school, just behind the nostalgia of staying up late watching cartoons at his house and spending weeks camping together, doing survival training just like his brother did, or eating crackers in his kitchen as his mom busied and fused around the house, Keroro making stupid jokes or pulling Pururu along as usual, but Zeroro talking and laughing when he wasn't listening. The memories flooded him, and it was all happy ones, leaving him relaxed and carefree and he'd just be okay with this moment lasting a long, long time, too.

"G-Giroro?" Dororo's voice came murmuring at him, from inches away. Sometimes he forgot how soothing that voice was, and from so close by it washed through him warmly.

"Yeah?" He waited a minute to respond, he was too happy to think clearly. He didn't care, about anything else. He just knew this was a happy moment, a good moment, one no one could ruin.

"...Thank you." Dororo's voice was saturated with gratitude. He had really been affected, and he was truly happy, too._ I made him happy_, he thought, _I really did it_. _He's happy because of me, I really made him happy..._

"No, Dororo-" Giroro rasped, opening his eyes. Bravery shot through him like liquid courage and he remembered how idiotic he was being today... well, he could top it one more time. He brought his hand up, and brushed Dororo's mask down, watching his face with quiet intention.

"-...Thank _you_."

He closed the space between them and Dororo responded briefly with a clash of shock and confusion, before pushing back with startling eagerness. However, almost instantaneously, Dororo pulled away with one violent movement, breathing quickly and intensely, his hands somehow already around Giroro's face, forcing him back away again. Regret drove through Giroro like a blade, and he cursed as loud and as long as he could in his head. _Fool! Idiot! Pathetic! You thought that would work? You've ruined__** everything! **__God damn excuse of a friend! How're you going to fix this? Stop, no, stop, STOP, STOP, __**STOP-**__!_ He sharply took in a breath, and bit back a thousand apologies as he managed to cram out,

"FuckI'msorryIdidn'tmeantodothatitwasaJOKEareal lybadjokeOKI'msosorrydamnitIjust-"

...But it seemed that this time, he didn't mind letting Dororo cut him off.


	9. Chapter 9: He's Not Yours

Ahh this is taking awhile to write but it's not dead.. (also, for the unaware, Nitrous Oxide = laughing gas)

* * *

Suddenly Dororo moved closer to him and it was like fireworks of sensuality that were impossible to control, and then it was _Giroro _with his hands delicately framing Dororo's face, holding him close and then pushing him away as he gasped longingly for breath and escape from the cascade of new feelings he'd never felt before that he ashamedly realized he desperately wanted to explore.

"Dororo, Doro- stop, stop! One second!" He clumsily moved the Lance-Corporal away, face and body overheated from head to toe. Everything was searing and hot and his senses dulled to near numbness under the euphoria eruption flooding through him. He was holding Dororo closer than he'd _ever _held him, but no, he'd _never_ held him like this, it was totally different and his feelings were exploding with confusion and excitement. He didn't know if that was okay, or if that was _supposed_ to be okay, or if he was to be_** damned **_whether or not it was "okay", because it was probably the greatest feeling he'd ever felt and for once he wasn't throwing it away or pressing it down in an effort to remain like his normal self, to be calm, serious, angry Giroro, no, it was nothing like usual and it was indulgence and it was gratification and it felt _so damn good_.

But before he could even_ really_ relish the feeling, before it was more than a wild emergency flare going off all thorough out him, disrupting all of his thoughts and movements and leaving him all dazed but happy like a rush of nitrous oxide, he caught a look of pure terror on Dororo's face, horror like he'd never seen before, and the ninja thrust him away and scrambled to his feet, as if burned by Giroro's touch. At first, Giroro just watched him dumbly, unaware of what was going on, as Dororo moved farther away. But the feelings began to sink in toxically, a monstrously sick feeling akin to being shot at point blank, and horror, horror like he'd never known, and he was all tripping and falling and he just needed to get to Dororo, he needed to fix whatever he'd done wrong and correct this and damnit he had just _fucked everything up_ but it'd still okay, it could still be alright, it would be fine if he just-

"Giii~roro? Are you around?" A vixen voice purred out from somewhere behind him, chipper in just _all_ the right ways. The red corporal stopped dead in his tracks. No, no, anything, _anything_, but that... _anything _in the world would make a better savior than that_._

The gods were not benevolent tonight.

Natsumi poked her strawberry pink-covered head out the door, and smiled down at him. "There you are! I was wondering if you'd like to come in for so-" As she talked, her line of sight slowly slid over Giroro, who had one knee to the ground we're he'd just tripped to, with arms partially outstretched, to Dororo, who was across the yard and slowly shrinking away from any possibility of his touch. Comprehension slowly dawned on her and her face went from beaming joy to no-nonsense in a blink.

"Giroro, what're you doing?" she hissed.

Giroro jerked his hands back sharply, as if he'd been slapped, and held them up pleadingly to her, heart already racing at her appearance.

"No, wait, I wasn't doing anything, I swear-"

"Don't you guys bother him enough? I thought at least _you_ were better than this, jeeze!"

Okay._ That_ stung.

"No, you don't understand! Let me explain-" He advanced a step and the movement instantly caused a reaction in Natsumi, who was between them in seconds.

"You can leave him alone already, ya jerk! ...Hey, Dororo," Natsumi turned slowly to address the pale frog, voice crumpling into plush pleasantries and hands coming together peacefully, "would _you_ like to come in for some cake?" her words were very deliberate, she was _only_ addressing Dororo.

"Actually, Natsumi-" Giroro began, hoping to parry her blows for a moment, even just a minute, so he could get to Dororo, talk to him, he just needed to fix things, but before he could even finish he was interrupted for the last time.

"-I was just going." Dororo's voice smoothly interjected, completely emotionless. His voice so devoid of warmth that there was absolutely nothing to be read into it. He sounded like he was speaking to Kululu in the most business-like manner possible, not.._. him._ The tone left Giroro more hurt than he wanted to admit. _Did that moment mean nothing suddenly? _All this time he thought he could read Dororo like a book... it seemed like he was just faking.

"Ah, really? Maybe you can come tomorrow, instead. Eh... Giroro, you alright?"

The rolling of his name off of Natsumi's tongue jolted him roughly back to reality. She didn't know about anything that had just happened, she just wanted to know he was alright... innocent, sweet, Natsumi... Giroro's heart did a dive bomb. _What had he done? _His hands went over his face and it was just way too overwhelming, it made him utterly sick.

"I'm fine."

**...**

Dororo stepped quietly through the grass as he approached his home, his mind burdened heavily a few times over. More time had passed than he had expected and only starshine lit his way, obscuring the trees and forms in the deep dark. The moon was held captive by the clouds and passed little light to help his journey. So it was with this light source that he stumbled clumsily over the rocky pathway through the forest, senses numbed and his usually sharp defenses dulled. He couldn't help it, his focus was squandered on having the last hour rewinded in his mind once, twice, a thousand times, every scene dissected and analyzed to the very bones in his pale eyes as he tripped past the trees.

Each time it was played back it was like watching some sad, pathetic movie where the main character's love interest was there the whole time, and they couldn't see it until the very end, but with the added twist that they waited too long and they lost them. Dororo rubbed his arms nervously, wanting the raw friction try to shock him back to normal. It did nothing.

_But Giroro isn't a simple love interest, _he protested inwardly. Giroro was his friend. Just his friend. Just his always-friend. He hadn't had time to think when Giroro got him so close, only time to react. Now that single action had brought a mountain of regret clashing upwards in his heart, triggered from the collision of the huge tectonic plates of _"he was never yours in the first place"_,_ "you didn't have the right to do that"_, and the worst, the most toxic:_ "you know he gave himself to Natsumi, anyway"_. And oh, oh, Natsumi! A small shiver went down his spine from between his shoulders to the small of his back. He felt like a monster, he'd held Giroro and Natsumi had been feet away, in the kitchen, and hadn't even known. When he'd noticed her approaching before Giroro did, in those last precious seconds, it was like a horrible drowning of the moment and culmination of the whole thing all at once, it had been just too much. He'd gotten away as fast as he could, tried to extract himself from the situation, anything, anything at all to get away. He just didn't want to get hurt again.

And yet, with the replay of his memories there was the voice that came through clear as day again, tight with frustration and so pained from the need for him to understand,

_"You've always been important to me!"_

He almost buckled when he remembered that moment, the look Giroro gave him, that finally told him he meant it, he really meant it, and he_ needed _him to know. It send another wave through him and god it did not feel like anything he'd ever felt before, it was not a normal friendly warmth, it was not the biting bitterness his leader could summon at the omission of his name at roll-call, no, it was burning his insides and leaving him breathing much faster than he wanted too and _god_, why was this so different and why couldn't he ignore it and just be done with it? Why was he trying so hard to do something he couldn't; just walk away and leave Giroro to Natsumi and be alone, like it always was. Why couldn't he accept that there was no way it could end well and just get over that one moment that was all too fast and no thinking of consequences, why couldn't it be done and over with and leave him alone and make his head stop hurting and his heart stop swimming in feelings that were as alien as he was?

He didn't want to say the answer that was so obvious and so blunt on his lips it physically hurt.

_Because_, his mind viciously replied for him,

_You want to love him._

And Dororo responded with the only answer he could possibly allow himself to give,

_But I can't._

**...**


	10. Chapter 10: Belated Repercussions

**...**

Giroro was curled away in his tent, the greyish circles under his eyes revealing he hadn't had an ounce of sleep since last night, dangerous thoughts disrupting his every attempt to do so as they flew by as fast as tundra winds, causing worry to plague him like never before. He hadn't felt this nauseous since he'd first had to fire a gun at a target that could move... and yet the feeling besieged him so relentlessly he used the nearest cloth as a bit so he wouldn't roar out in frustration.

_I love Natsumi_, his thoughts struck him like a whip, _but I love Dororo too_, it sliced through him cleanly,_ but I can't love Dororo_, crack, _because I love Natsumi, _crack, _but Natsumi doesn't love me_, crack, _but Dororo doesn't want me either, _another crack and Giroro bit down, his fangs subtly piercing the cloth_, I love them both_, and then the last vicious stroke that welled tears in his eyes and made him bite down so hard his teeth tore into the thick material and gagged his breathing, _but I can't have either of them_. He slowly brought his hands over his eyes, the weight of everything bearing down with incredible magnitude on him, leaving him feeling feint and sick and tired. Just _so_ tired.

In the midst of this perfect storm, something soft brushed against Giroro's arm, and he nearly flew into a fighting position, ready for the worst. But it was only Neko, the kitty cat. Relieved, he spat out the mutilated cloth and instead took her into his lap and rubbed her ears softly, finding some odd comfort in her familiarity that soothed the rising misery in him. He also closed his eyes tightly, fighting down a tight soreness agonizing his arm. He leaned his head against the kitty's back, suddenly incredibly tired, listening half to her heartbeat and half to his own as it pulsed slow and steady, the beat of someone strong. Funny, he couldn't feel less strong right now.

"I think I messed up." he rasped softly into her cozy fur. She mewled soothingly back at him, eyes wide with forgiveness for whatever she imagined he did. Then she sat back on her haunches and seemed to think of something, barring her tiny kitten teeth and hissing. He laughed knowingly at her cute antics. "No, you don't understand... it's Dororo this time... well, Natsumi, too. But mostly Dororo right now." But Neko only tilted her head and stared back at him for a response.

"Yeah, I know, I'm some idiot, huh?" Giroro chuckled deeply, closing his eyes against the strain of it, for he was light-headed now and his vision blurred at the edges when he raised his head. Neko innocently batted at his hat flap, meowing louder than before- presumably she still wanted an answer.

"Yeah, yeah. But I don't know how t' fix it this time. I don't know what I'm doing... I don't know why I'm doing it. It just keeps happening and I don't stop it! And I don't know why, but I didn't want to, and... and it gets me here." He buried his fingers into the cat's silk fur, gripping her to his chest even tighter, struggling to breath out even a low hiss. "What am I_ doing_?" He whispered sluggishly, feeling even more burnt out. The cat nuzzled him at first, but hissed as she was brought too close and leapt away from him, leaving him alone again. And he stood up to go catch her but he could barely see anything now and there were bright colours in his sight with dots and darkness and blackness and the world woozed by him for a second until he saw nothing besides the stars and he tripped clumsily, feeling less and less aware, and then-

-And then, Giroro looked down. and there was. lots of blood. all down his arm. and.

Blood.

and.

darkness.

And Giroro collapsed to the earth below, pain exploding suddenly through him and being numbed almost as instantly as everything went out like a light.

**...**

Koyuki raised her head slightly as the wooden door across from her was slid aside and tiny footsteps padded across the tan tamaki mat. She also watched silently as her familiar sparring partner took his place beside the low-rise table and picked up a very cold mug of green tea, set out an hour ago by her hand, closing his eyes slowly as he drunk in the herbal taste without sparing a greeting, probably lost deep in thought.

"You took awhile, Dororo..." she commented carefully. It took awhile for him to respond, absorbed in some fantasy that she'd broken into unintentionally.

"A-Ah, yes. Sorry, Koyuki. I was... ah, held up. It won't happen again." He lowered his head, forehead brushing the table, cup held shakingly in his lap. Shame hid in the edges of his face.

Koyuki raised her eyebrows and bit her lip nervously.

"Was it... was it Keroro again, D?"

Dororo shook his head a bit too viciously, avoiding her empathetic gaze with terror. Koyuki was his best friend, his greatest supporter, his everything to come home to. But what had happened... he wasn't sure she or _anyone_ could ever, ever know.

"It was... I just... I messed up." His words came out quicker and more bitter than he meant to, and he stiffened rigidly to snuff any burst of emotion, sure he must conceal his actions and act as normal as possible so he could keep the problem to himself. _Just breathe, _he thought, _just breathe, just, just... don't, no, please no, Koyuki, no_. But Koyuki reached out tentatively anyway, despite his silent pleas, and softly stroked the top of his head, and he felt his resolution sway pathetically.

"It's okay. I'm sure it was just an accident, or something you can just explain away tomorrow, right?" She smiled her warm, pleasant smile, the kind that usually made him feel like everything was alright and he could just try again tomorrow, but this time it didn't work and his stomach flipped nauseously at the idea. There was no fixing anything. There was no explanation he could possibly offer. What? That he'd gone on instincts rather than thought and now he was head over heels, releasing pent up feelings only from forever and letting them wash through him like a waterfall he could no longer stop after the eruption of his body against Giroro's let loose everything he'd tried to deny and GOD, it was so pathetic he almost began to sob right there and then and he wanted to tell Koyuki _everything,_ everything from meeting Giroro as a kid and finding a friend and then a protector in him to slowly and then quickly realizing how understanding and imperfectly perfect he was up to today when he realized-, _oh god_, _today_, and he buried his face in his hands, wanted to hide from his past and his memory and life and everything because it was too much. Just too much.

And he could feel Koyuki move against him and reach out to hold onto him, but it wasn't her, the touch wasn't hers it was Giroro's and he knew it was her but his memory flooded him instantly all over again before he knew what was happening Koyuki held him and he knew it was her but he felt Giroro's warm hands and felt his hot breath and saw his dark eyes and that was it, that was enough, he was overwhelmed in seconds, breathing so hard and so fast in panic he realized a blink later he had stopped breathing at all.

Pain instantly floored through his lungs, and he clawed at his chest, more scared than ever before. He began to breathe in harsh, sputtering gasps that stung his sides wildly but he fought it until he found himself breathing semi-normal again, eyes wide and afraid, his hands holding onto his ribs with an iron grip as he eased himself into a normal position again. Koyuki was watching him with wide eyes filled with worry, her arms retracted a bit but still outstretched, nearly touching him, though she was clearly afraid to, her body still trembling as she watched his panic attack burn out and saw him raising his head back up to her, eyes wide and tearing up with more fear than pain.

"Dororo...what's wrong?" She whispered into the air, and her voice was so genuinely tender and filled with such tortured worry that Dororo was shocked, and even though he'd only just been able to finally bring himself to meet her eyes, he lowered his gaze from hers, ashamed and hurting around his chest from more than just soreness, begging every god in the world to make this night end quietly and to let him pass out from the extraneous effort that was pretending everything was okay when in reality nothing was and he'd been plunged deep under freezing water by actions than were faster than his mind's reasoning and.

Dororo finally felt the tears long after they had begun flowing, hot on his cheeks and leaving a thickly familiar taste with him, looking up to Koyuki with a gaze that begged her both to understand and to not understand at all.

He swallowed his pride and whispered into the air,

"I messed up, bad."

Koyuki brought him into her lap, pushing him deep into embrace and holding him gently.

"I promise to help you, okay? There's nothing, nothing you can do that can't be fixed _somehow_. So just tell me, just tell me what's wrong, _please_. I just want to help." Koyuki murmured into the velvety veil of his hat as she pressed him into her chest, deeply worried about her best friend.

Dororo choked on the pressure building in his heart, absolutely in ruins in her arms.

"_I can't_."

Koyuki watched him, his restraint causing her face to betray her intense heart ache. She silently bowed her forehead down to bump his, her voice coming out in a tormented whisper.

"I don't want to see you hurt. I never want to see you hurt like this."

Dororo was about to give another discouraging response, when there was a small rap at the door; once, twice, again, very quiet but there all the same.

Dororo skittishly moved away from his Koyuki, now his problem, trying for all he was worth to ignore it, and wretched the door aside, moving into a fighting position and getting ready for the worst.

But it was only Neko, the kitty cat.

* * *

Ah, okay! Quick author's note time.  
Just want to sort out the last few chapters.

The basic point I'm trying to get at is Dororo's approaching this situation like 'I don't really like him! It's all a mistake! I messed up!' and Giroro just goes 'I want only what I can't have, I've screwed over my friendship, and I've really messed up this time.' and it's supposed to be heart wrenching because they should just BE HAPPY but they just can't, they can't when they feel this useless.

And, obviously, the next chapters will be a culmination of all of this!

Oh and I also just wanted to say that panic attacks really are like that! I've had them before, and yes, I've stopped breathing. It's really scary! Dororo's probably had them before, but they don't get any better over time. Also Koyuki couldn't have done a lot to help him anyway, so don't interpret her actions as being useless pbbtbt

Well... until next time, my few readers...!


End file.
